


(all these people think love is for show) but I'd die for you in secret

by sk4di



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, I just love playing around debbie's mind ugh, Post-Canon, not the AU I usually write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26367586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sk4di/pseuds/sk4di
Summary: But she could see it now, clear as crystal water, with the clarity that only happens to you when the games are behind you, when coming out of age is a distant past, when the clouds in the sky open with an effort made by the hands of time: Lou derserved that, nothing less and much more.
Relationships: Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean
Comments: 9
Kudos: 53





	(all these people think love is for show) but I'd die for you in secret

**Author's Note:**

> heyyy, this came up to me as I listened to taylor swift's peace and I just wrote. I hope it's as soft as I felt it was when I wrote.
> 
> love,  
> sk4di.

Lou always looked peaceful in her sleep. Undisturbed, a poem with soft rhymes meant to be read in a whisper, the personification of a deserted upstate forest, the lovechild of the most beautiful sin. The sight of her sleeping soundly made Debbie stop and watch her for a few minutes when they shared a bed for the first time and still did now, decades later.

It was not shocking, just refreshing to see Lou, who always stood strong on her two feet, with grace and boldness and style, in such an unarmed state. Her hair sprawled all over the pillow, bangs for once swept away from her eyes, an arm over her head, the other hand resting above her belly, where her white tank top was a little too short, exhibiting a patch of pale skin. One leg was under the duvet and the other poked out of it, long and toned, entirely exposed, since the dark blue boxers didn't do much in covering them.

"Are you going to stare all day long?" Lou asked without moving, startling Debbie. Her voice was raspy from sleep, delicious in a whole different way.

"Just for the morning," Debbie said, from where she was standing, wrapping her robe around herself. She noticed how sunshine was just begining to peak between the curtains and wondered how long she had been staring. "Tea?"

Lou sighed and turned on her side, hand flying to spraw over the pillow still warm from Debbie's head. It was too early for her day to start. Debbie, though, got the habit of an early morning from her prison time.

"I'll bring you a mug," Debbie said, finally tearing her glance away and walking out of Lou's bedroom.

The club was an idea becoming reality, and old plan from before, a realization; the loft was just a surprise to Debbie. Before jail, she and Lou had lived in half of the apartments for rent in Brooklyn, always knowing they would be out of there as soon as the lease was over - sometimes, before that. 

So there was a joke or two about Lou being a homeowner now that she kept for herself. After all, she had been around for almost an year now and the place was beginning to actually look like a habitable space. There was actual food in the fridge and cups that shatter if they happen to fall. The living area rug was replace by one without wine stains (for now) and she made an effort of getting an real dining table. Plus, the loft was efficiently heated when necessary now.

All of it was an effort that never before Debbie felt compelled to make. Their homes together were a mix of second-hand vintage furniture, design chairs they carried from apartment to apartment and beds that never lasted. Any kind of attachment or interior design was just not possible - or wanted. Sometimes they happened to find themselves in a nice place, with nice walls and spacious enough to accomodate perfectly their furniture, but it was by chance more than by effort.

But she could see it now, clear as crystal water, with the clarity that only happens to you when the games are behind you, when coming out of age is a distant past, when the clouds in the sky open with an effort made by the hands of time: Lou derserved that, nothing less and much more.

Even if the next trouble was just around the corner, even if she could feel herself staring too just a little bit too long at the sight of a poorly secured bank, or a scrappy casino, even if her body longed for the thrill as if it were a drug she was quitting, she tried. 

How long until someone undesired knocked on her door? How long until ghosts found their way to them? How long until danger quits on being a possibility and becomes a situation? It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow, but it comes. The skies are blue, the trees turn orange in the autumn, the last Ocean could not live in peace. 

However, if peace was the one thing she could not steal, buy or pursue, she was going to have everything else. No, wait. She never wanted peace for herself - that's the one luxury thieves know they can't have. Let me rephrase it; so her logic was: if peace was the one thing she couldn't offer Lou, she was going to give her everything else.

One time they drove out of the town to see Tammy when they knew her husband wasn't around. They sat by the back porch, ate lunch, sipped wine and tried to not get the attention of her neighbors. It became evident to Debbie that Lou had been there before when the boy, Derek, begged and Lou discarded her shoes and played soccer with him and the girl, Keri, came after to drag her by the hand to show the new house they got for her pet rabbit, Wade. She tried to ignore the way Lou looked carefree and happy with that, of course, because if she decided to pay attention too closely, nothing good would come out of it. Is that what you want? Debbie wanted to ask her when they were driving back home. Do you want a McMansion and 2.5 kids? Do you? And she knew that she was ready to concede if Lou said yes to those questions she didn't dare to ask. (She wondered if that's how her parents found themselves with a family, running cons from a suburban household but that was another wonder that she would have to unravel herself.)

If Lou glanced anywhere near a piece of clothing or jewerly, her attention perked up. If Lou just briefly mentioned an easy target, her mind would immediately start to craft a plan. If Lou got home carrying around a bad day with her, she was ready to make someone pay for it.

But she knew she couldn't be that person because Lou was not one to ask for things - or to take things when offered to her like that, whatsoever. She made her own coffee, she put the trash out, she picked her own dry-cleaning, thank you very much. Lou wasn't one to be pampered in that way. 

Luckily, Debbie also knew what to offer. No millions or diamonds or expensive cars were enough; first of all, she had to be a friend. There were hearts to mend, days on the calendar reserved to weep over their gone loved ones, openess to practice daily, friends to cherish and support, silence to be heard, hands to hold, lips to kiss and a body to worship.

So Debbie made her a cup of tea every morning and furnished the place she pretended to not like until it felt slightly like a home. She stayed for rants about a new neuroscience discovery and stopped complaining about the way her hair looked after taking off the helmet. She kissed her cheeks to say "have a good day, see you later" and kissed her palms as they laid by the couch against each other at the end of the day. She toweled her hair dry before bed and made sure her arms were around her as they fell asleep.

And it almost felt like peace.

"I'm an asshole, but I'd do so much for you," Debbie said, later that day. "More than you know."

Lou, sitting by the bed resting her back against the bedpost with her phone in one hand, the other holding the mug, her glasses on the tip of her nose and hair still adorably out of place, turned her head to look at the woman sitting by her side. She smiled. Not a smirk, a real smile. "I don't need much, honey."

Debbie put her own mug aside and sat straight, her hands resting on Lou's tight. "But you would tell me if you need anything from me." It wasn't a question.

It was Lou's turn of setting her mug and phone aside and turning to her. She pushed her glasses up her forehead and stared at the woman in front of her, hands cupping her face, making Debbie's heart skip a beat. 

If she asked for time for another roadtrip she could manage, if she asked for the kids, that would require some unhuman effort from her. Debbie stared at her pale blue eyes, aprehensive in a way that was entirely reserved for Lou.

But the blonde just smiled again. "I don't need to." Lou said and kissed her. "I have enough." She kissed her again.

It may not be the peace Debbie had in mind, but it was enchanting just the same.


End file.
